


Character Piece

by keelywolfe



Category: British Actor RPF, The Hobbit RPF
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 15:57:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10643184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: One of the benefits of being an actor on a movie set was that it made it rather easier to bribe the night guard.





	

* * *

One of the benefits of being an actor on a movie set was that it made it rather easier to bribe the night guard. A quick smile, a whisper, and a few tenners were enough to get him an hour on the set. More than once, Luke had sneaked a pretty lad behind the scenes and wasn't there something about it that sent the blood roaring. The furtive, desperate groping on a darkened sound stage was always a thrill, rough hands dipping into jeans for a quick wank, hot mouths panting together, too-loud in the silence of the studio.

Luke had to admit, though, of the few times he'd managed this stunt it had never been with one of the leads. 

The Laketown set wasn't as quiet as most. Even with everything shut down, water seemed to make it's own sound. They made their way through the darkened set together and his grip on Richard's sleeve was less a guide and more to keep him from bolting. He listened almost absently to Richard whispering, "Why exactly are we going here?"

"It's important to my character process," Luke said decisively.

Richard stopped, resisting Luke's pull on his sleeve. "Oh, really."

"Course. You think you're the only one who needs to really feel the character." It was too dark to try for the eyes, so Luke went with a touch of helpless pleading instead. "You'll help, won't you?"

Worked a charm. One last tug on his sleeve and Richard was following him again, albeit reluctantly. "You're ridiculous."

"Probably," Luke conceded, and flashed him a grin. "But you're here."

"Yes, I'm here. Do you know, I do have a flat and there's all kinds of recording equipment here, this really doesn't seem--"

If they'd had more time, Luke might have tried to out-argue Richard. Eventually, he wore down, always did, but the guard had only given them an hour before shift changes. Knowing Richard that wasn't nearly long enough to come up with a laundry list of reasons that this was a perfectly good place for a shag. Easier to shut him up with a hard kiss, feel him startle and try to jerk back.

Too bad for him that Luke knew this set inside and outside and slantways. Easier than a kiss was pushing Richard up against the wooden support beam, smothering his protests with an ample supply of tongue, a touch of teeth.

Richard's moan was no more than a tremor of vibration and, Luke thought triumphantly, a surrender. The battle was won with nothing more than a kiss and Luke drew back, ready to hustle Richard to the Master's house set before he snapped out of his daze.

Only to find that the battle was hardly begun. Before he could get out a word, Richard snatched up two handfuls of his shirt and the world twirled as he was yanked around, shoved up against that self-same wooden beam and this time it was Richard devouring him, hot mouth against his own and teeth worrying his lower lip, sucking at it with fierce eagerness.

"Hello, there," Luke whispered breathlessly between their clinging mouths. Richard was just a touch taller than him, enough that Luke had to look up into his eyes. Little more than a gleam in the darkness, one that vanished and reappeared in a slow blink. Then a rough hand slid into his hair, tugging firmly until he let his head fall back, breathing out slowly as a wet mouth found the line of his throat.

No bites there, nothing for makeup to find in the morning. Only hot, wet pressure sliding downward and Luke hissed out a groan of his own at the sudden press of a hand at his crotch, palming him roughly through denim. All that swordwork had given Richard blessedly strong hands and Luke was trying not to bite through his own lip, muffling his groans through his teeth as a strong thumb rubbed down the length of his cock. It pausing at the head, circling, offering the gorgeous pain of friction from his jeans.

Then that thumb left him, shifting upward and Luke bit back a curse even as his jeans loosened abruptly, Richard proving yet another skill by opening his fly one-handed. Oh, bloody Jesus, he was pushing his hand into Luke's jeans, big hands, Christ, curling firmly around him.

"Wait..." Luke gasped out. "Wait, not here..." Wasn't supposed to be here, his little play-fantasy had been on the Master's set, maybe sprawled out in one of those chairs, his leg over one arm and Richard on his knees in front of him.

Not that Richard paid him any mind. He'd found a rhythm now, his hand moving in quick, jerky strokes, and the way his grip tightened on the way up made Luke's toes curl in his boots.

"Yes, here, right here," Richard said, ah, fuck, _growled_ against his throat. "Isn't this to help you get into character?"

"Ah....ah...yeah," Luke grunted, fumbling with both hands at Richard's jeans, yanking at the zipper. "You think...this is in character, do you?"

"Yessss," Richard hissed it into Luke's mouth, his teeth biting gently at the tip of his tongue. "I can see Bard doing this, can't you? Late night out, one pint too many, staggering home to his children and this....this comes in between."

"Bard's a hero," Luke argued, shoving Richard's jeans down. His arse begged for hands to grab it and Luke was happy to oblige, getting two healthy handfuls and pulling Richard against him, jarring him off-rhythm. Enough for him to shift around, circling them both with that large hand and the feel of his cock sliding against Richard's was a glorious bit of distraction.

"Bard is a smuggler," Richard groaned, hips working as he thrust into his own hand, against Luke. "His wife is dead and his children are all he has. He cannot bring anyone home. Not a lover, not..." His breath hitched as Luke dug his nails into Richard's arse demandingly, pushing up into his grip. "Not someone he can _fuck_."

"Fuck," Luke echoed, helplessly, letting his head drop back against the wooden beam and he had to scramble to cover his mouth with a hand, biting hard on one knuckle as he came hot on both their bellies.

The hand on the back of his neck drew his head forward, Richard dropping his head to rest their foreheads together, catching Luke's hand between their mouths. Instead of teeth, Luke felt lips brush over the back of his fingers, the only tender touch he'd had this night, and then he felt Richard exhale, softly, and the slick heat of his come spurted across the cooling wetness of his own.

For long moments the heavy sound of their breathing overshadowed even the sound of the water moving around them, until Richard finally lifted his head and pressed a hard kiss against Luke's forehead, against the damp hair falling across it. "We're a mess," he murmured.

"A bit of," Luke agreed, and asked without much hope, "You wouldn't have a handkerchief would you?"

As it turned out, Richard did, and he made quick work of mopping them up the best he could. "Martin gave it to me a while back," Richard said cryptically and didn't that raise an eyebrow. He made brisk work of cleaning them both, even fastening Luke's jeans. Just that little touch made him gasp, groaning as he leaned against the beam. It took him a moment to notice Richard was watching him, hands in his pockets. Too dark to see his eyes and Luke frowned, wondering if he was about to get a polite thank you and that was that.

"Feeling in character?" Richard asked archly and Luke grinned even though Richard couldn't see it.

"Do you know, I think I do," Luke said easily and he lifted his arms in a hard stretch, groaning in relief as joints popped. Only to groan louder when Richard stepped in, laying his hand, that hand, against the flatness of Luke's belly. As if he just wanted a feel of it. The heat bled easily through his thin t-shirt and Luke stood there, arms raised and resting lazily on his head, just feeling it.

"I believe I said I have a flat," Richard leaned in to whisper, his lips just brushing the lobe of Luke's ear.

"You did," Luke agreed. "Care to show it off?"

Richard hummed softly, a noncommittal agreement and this time it was Luke's turn to follow, the two of them making their way through the darkened set. Next time would be Erebor, Luke decided suddenly. Laying those piles of false gold, next time it was for Richard.

Helping him, was all. Helping him get into character.

-Finis-


End file.
